


Epiphany

by onceuponasnowbarry



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Canon, F/M, Feelings, SnowBarry - Freeform, Snowallen, Tumblr: snowbarryweek, hannibalbates, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponasnowbarry/pseuds/onceuponasnowbarry
Summary: Caitlin knew, as she stood listening to Harrison Wells announce his findings of who was thought to be Barry actually being Hannibal Bates, the shape shifter they had been looking for, she shouldn't have done it.She really shouldn't have kissed him back.Although, she should have known. Caitlin Snow had numerous degrees in science, honour roll all through high school, and she should have known it wasn't him as soon as she stepped foot into his house to drag him back to the labs, watching him be more frigid and awkward than usual, not knowing what to say. She ignored the warning bells, writing it off as a result of being so close to finding who killed his mother. Then there was him being right behind her as she perfected the serum on the spinner, less than a breath away. She decided to write it off as an unconscious act.She wrote if all off until he oh-so-abruptly spun her around and planted his lips on hers.(In which Caitlin deals with the aftermath of kissing who she thought was Barry.)1x19 Canon.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [define_serenity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/define_serenity/gifts), [dedicated to @define_serenity](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dedicated+to+%40define_serenity).



**epiphany**  
/ɪˈpɪf(ə)ni,ɛ-/  
_noun  
_ 1\. a moment of sudden and great revelation or realisation.

⥂♫⥃

"Won't tell anybody that you turn the world around,  
I won't tell anyone that your voice is my favourite sound,  
I won't tell anybody, won't tell anybody  
They wanna see us fall, they wanna see us fall down  
  
I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you  
Baby, if I've got you, I don't need a parachute  
You're gonna catch me, you're gonna catch if I fall (Down, down, down)"  
-Parachute, Ingrid Michaelson

⥂♫⥃

 

 

⥂♫⥃

 

Caitlin knew, as she stood listening to Harrison Wells announce his findings of who was thought to be Barry actually being _Hannibal Bates_ , the shape shifter they had been looking for, she shouldn't have done it.

She really shouldn't have kissed him back.

She barely comprehends what Wells is saying after _"Your observations were spot on, Ms. West. He was left handed, as is this man. Our Barry is right handed." ,_ because her head is too busy spinning with the fact that she just _kissed_  a metahuman.

One who just so happened to look a _lot_  like Barry Allen.

Heck, who was she kidding? Just a little while ago, in her eyes, he _was_  Barry Allen.

But was it really her fault? After all, Hannibal Bates had the ability to shape shift perfectly into any being he touched, and the unlucky participant just happened to be a certain CSI who worked in S.T.A.R. Labs. 

Although, she should have known. Caitlin Snow had numerous degrees in science, honour roll all through high school, and she should have known it wasn't him as soon as she stepped foot into his house to drag him back to the labs, watching him be more frigid and awkward than usual, not knowing what to say. She ignored the warning bells, writing it off as a result of being so close to finding who killed his mother. Then there was him being right behind her as she perfected the serum on the spinner, less than a breath away. She decided to write it off as an unconscious act.

She wrote if all off until he oh-so-abruptly spun her around and planted his lips on hers.

She didn't _really_ kiss him back. Not as first, anyway. Well, she _tried_  not to. She remembers feeling the warm creases of his mouth mould over hers in a way that hasn't been done in a while; no, not since Ronnie, and she didn't recuperate. Waves of shock had lapped upon her, along with the realisation that Barry had _really_  soft lips, and she pushed him away. Weakly, but the action carried out nonetheless.

It proved to no avail. His lips were back on hers in less than a second, and this time, she didn't hold out, hold back. Because in those few precious moments, there was no Ronnie, no metahumans (or so she thought), no complications. There was only her and Barry, Barry and her.

She clenches her fists as she stares at the shape shifter passed out on the floor from Wells' taser, wondering how she was fooled so easy. Fooled into thinking that he was the _real_  Barry, or that the _real_  Barry would ever kiss her.

Or look at her in that way, period.

Because when it came to Barry Allen and romance, there seemed to be only one person in his heart and on his mind, a certain childhood best friend of his by the name of _Iris West_. Caitlin tries to ignore the twinge of _something_  she feels as she thinks this through, but it settles in the pit of her stomach anyway.

Pretty, perfect, passionate Iris West. Blogger, news reporter, sweet, funny, charming. Hell, Caitlin was half in love with her herself. It only made sense Barry was, wholly. After growing up together, being surrounded by her radiance, how could he not?

And Caitlin could never be like Iris. Could never be as bright, kind, and open. A bottle of sunshine, a shining star.

For Caitlin was half broken herself, icy and guarded. When she lost Ronnie, her presumed-to-be-dead-but-not-really-fiancé after the particle excelerator explosion, she lost a part of herself too. She seemed to tumble down the rabbit hole, only becoming a shadow, a poor mimic of who she once was. She became armoured with a thin layer of frost, freezing anyone who came too close, even Cisco. But _hell_ , she would be lying if she said Barry hadn't melted it.

Melted was an understatement. He seemed to be a scalding knife, diving head first, cutting straight through like she was a block of butter. There was no _when_  or _why_ , there was just _how_  he did it. 

It had really been first when he offered to go down with her to that hole for the first time in nine months. She was scared and traumatised, not wanting to go to that god forsaken place that marked Ronnie's death unless absolutely necessary. But if there was one thing Caitlin Snow was not, it was a coward.

So she sat just outside, twiddled her thumbs, and contemplated. And twiddled her thumbs some more. 

Until Barry came and sat down, and everything just poured out. He had already poked a hole in her exterior just by sitting so close, and he was just so _warm_  and she was _cold cold cold._ She didn't mean to tell him as much as she did, but when he was staring at her like she was the only thing worth listening to, was there really any other option?

They ended up going down there together, and she had shed tears at the memory of the last night she talked to Ronnie. _Tears._  She had been terrified enough, but now looking as weak as she truly felt, she was _mortified_. Would he laugh? be disgusted? _leave_?

But no, because he's Barry, he didn't do any of that. Instead, he softly spoke assurances and gave her a hug. And, as she clung to his sweater around his torso, head in the crook of his neck, grateful he was uncaring of her weeps, she felt her heart start to reassemble, one small piece at a time.

There were more fleeting moments here and there, one special night in particular. Barry wanted to check out an old dive bar a metahuman seemed to have liked, claiming to want to see if they " _fall into any old habits_ ", and Caitlin, whom at the time, was single and unaware Ronnie was homeless and flying around the world wrecking havoc, decided to join him.

She didn't mean to get tipsy. She didn't mean to sing " _Summer Lovin"_ with Barry _,_ leaving a pang of nostalgia every time she's heard it since, and she _certainly_ didn't mean to ask him to stay until she fell asleep.

Or so she thinks.

Because when she wakes up the next day, doused with a headache and multiple memories (mostly embarrassing, many including Barry either holding her hair back while she vomited or laughing at her drunk accusation of him sneaking a peak while he had speedily changed her out of her evil, tight dress) as a result of the aftermath, along with a tingling feeling deep in her chest and a hum in her bones as each flash of remembrance played on in her head, she denied it.

_Deny deny deny._

She overstepped a line. Sometime during that night, something had changed. The essence between them transferred from entirely platonic to possibly something more, and she doesn't know if it was when she looked into his eyes while she sang or when his hand was soothing her back while she dry heaved, but something _changed._

Something changed, and he was still in love with pretty, perfect, passionate Iris West. And she was still Caitlin Snow, cold as ice.

Except, not really.

Which is why she _really_  shouldn't have kissed him.

She only realises the repercussions of her actions later, when the _real_  Barry tries to congratulate her on formulating a serum to stop said shapeshifter, putting a warm hand on her shoulder. She instantly jumps away, torn, reminded of the bittersweet memory of what happened only hours prior. She could still feel his heartbeat under her hands; taste his soft lips and everything in between. 

 _She should have known_. She can't seem to stop pinching herself, reminding her that what happened _wasn't_  real, no matter how much the memory of the heat from his front searing into her back as he spoke in barely above a whisper, asking how long the serum would take to make, whilst she had been only somewhat oblivious. She was never fully oblivious, really. Not when it came to Barry Allen.

In a way, she feels guilty. Guilty because while her no-longer-dead significant other, Ronnie, is away saving the world,  she was kissing a mirage of someone whom she may or may not have deeper feelings for. She should feel wrong and twisted inside, because she practically _cheated_  for christ-sake, but none of that hits. Only the unpleasant ache of realising  it _wasn't_ Barry. Not really.

Not even close.

"Thank you." She says, straining her lips into a smile, although it may have come out more as a grimace. "Um, no need for a hug. Or anything like that." She feels her face cracking, breaking, and she knows she can't hold the mask much longer. She fumbles with the box holding the key to stopping fake Barry and starts turning away, just as she hears real Barry, in the flesh, mumble, "Okay."

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

She swerves her head toward the laptop as a notification is sounded in the form of a loud _ping_ , and she is relieved when Hannibal Bates- aka, the cause of her new profound stress- is at the airport. She alerts Barry of the information, and he's gone in a flash, as is his suit on the stand.

She walks back to her desk with wide eyes and a racing mind, using her shaky hands to sort and retype files on the database to give her the wave of calm and all-togetherness she was so used to.

However, no such thing came. 

Because although she could try to fake it as much as she can, she did _not_ have it all together. And she knew the truth.

She, Caitlin Snow, was undeniably screwed.

⥂♫⥃

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! this is my first fanfic, and i am a devoted snowbarry shipper and after reading so much i just had to. please give comments/feedback below!


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